To Dream of Love
by Anomalous One
Summary: The dreams that Rosemariné has about Jules are strange and shameful, and still, some part of himself wishes that they'll come true.


When Rosemariné dreams, it's always about Jules. Other thoughts do drift through his mind as he sleeps, of course but those are simple reminders of forgettable events; the dreams that _matter_ are always about Jules. Those are the dreams that leave him feeling warm and happy and the slightest bit disappointed that he's woken up, clutching a pillow and with a sticky feeling between his legs. The feeling that goes along with such dreams is the strangest and yet most desirable of any he's ever had; at the same time dangerous and comforting.

He was barely a teen the first time that happened, and had long ago forced himself to forget the details thanks to how awkward it made things. It probably involved kissing, though, and going to their favorite spot in Rosemariné's yard, and his riding crop. Waking up after that was the single most confusing morning in Rosemariné's life - back then, he hadn't learned to connect certain thoughts with embarrassing bodily responses - and when he saw Jules in class that day he completely ignored him. Jules asked him what was wrong, and Rosemariné slapped him and said that he wasn't in the mood to talk and spent the rest of the day staring at Jules' lips, wondering what Jules would do if he asked him to reenact the dream.

Rosemariné quickly realized how dirty such thoughts were, as the adults around him reminded him not to forget to have pure thoughts even as he grew older. Still, every so often Rosemariné would once again spend the night with thoughts of Jules. In them, they were just as they usually were, spending evenings together drinking tea and distinctly avoiding being too affectionate. Then, in Rosemariné's dreams, Jules begins to casually play with Rosemariné's hair or Rosemariné says something that he's kept secret, and suddenly the charade is broken. Jules pushes their lips together and lets his hands wander, takes off his clothes and then Rosemariné's and lies on top of him. He's afraid to think of what happens next, but with Jules it's warm and messy and they laugh at each other's awkwardness and never stop kissing. And afterward, they drift off to sleep together, exhausted and vulnerable. And in the morning, Rosemariné reminded himself that such disgusting and ridiculous dreams were just a phase and would soon stop.

And they do, for a while, after he's violated. That night, and for many nights after, he can't dream of anything at all, when he does manage to sleep. Suddenly, he misses that artificial closeness, that nighttime illusion that Jules cares about him and would never hurt him. He doesn't hate his dreams, he realizes one night as he lies awake, waiting for someone to save him, he hates that when he wakes up from them, he has to remember that they aren't true. That hurts even more, though, and Rosemariné tries to tell himself that the dreams leaving him is for the better. The things that happen in them aren't only disgusting things that Rosemariné would never do, but things that could never happen even if he wanted them.

At some point, Rosemariné rejects Jules, because of his closeness to Gilbert and Auguste, he claims, but really because he can't handle the arguments they've had and the deepening pain in his heart. But Rosemariné still dreams about him, sometimes and in his dreams they're still together, and once again Jules is not only beside him, but closer than Rosemariné could ever imagine letting anyone else come. Sometimes, Jules is gentle and obedient, sucking and touching wherever Rosemariné asks, and bending over his desk and asking for Rosemariné to make love to him. And sometimes, Jules is violating him, and yet Rosemariné is happy because it's Jules' bed and Jules' sweat and Jules' cock moving inside of him. In fact, it's almost comforting to be completely overwhelmed by him, even though he wakes up in the mornings disgusted with himself.

The next time they speak is years later, when they run into each other at one of Serge's concerts, and even then they talk about Gilbert and their jobs and that neither of them is married yet. Rosemariné dreams more vividly than ever that night: Jules begging for his forgiveness, and Rosemariné admitting that he's just happy to be able to talk with Jules again. They stare at each other for a few minutes, then Jules takes a deep breath and tells Rosemariné that he can't remember a time when he hasn't loved him. Rosemariné stares at him and blushes and then they're kissing and touching and groaning on a hotel bed, and Rosemariné isn't sure if this is a beautiful dream or a nightmare; either way, he knows that by now he's fallen asleep on the carriage ride home and when he wakes up he'll be surrounded by dozens of pillows and maids and somehow be alone. And still, he doesn't want to lose this fantasy, since it may be the only way he'll ever be able to see Jules again.

The next morning, he keeps his eyes closed for as long as possible, trying to hold on to his dreams. This time, he can't even pretend that he wants to forget something so new and realistic and wonderful. He idly wonders what Jules dreamed about that night - is there any chance that it could have been him? - when someone kisses him on the nose and asks if he's awake yet. Rosemariné opens his eyes in confusion and find that Jules is right next to him, smiling softly and stroking his hair. "It wasn't a dream," he realizes, and tries to wipe what he's sure is a foolish grin from his face. Jules just kisses him again, on the mouth this time, and Rosemariné realizes that he won't need to depend on his dreams any longer.


End file.
